Madness Mistaken
by Magnetic Luck
Summary: Margaret always thought Alice was mad,until she started having the dreams about Wonderland herself.With the Red Queen bidding for power once more,and it's up to the eldest Kingsley sister to stop her. Burtonverse, Marg/Knave, Hatter/Alice
1. A vision of things to come

Margaret always thought her sister was mad. It was the only way she could explain the vivid, and somewhat repetitive dream she continually had. Nobody had the same dream every night for the best part of a decade, without having the odd screw loose. In Alice's case, she had concluded that it was simply the result of childhood fancy, and as soon as she grew up and learnt to accept her place in society, all would be well. The dreams would stop, her sister would finally calm herself down (or at least refrain from divulging the details of her nightmares publicly), get married and start life as a respectable young woman.

Of course, this was going completely on the assumption that her sister **was** indeed mad, of which there was no actual proof. Tangled in a mess of sheets, the eldest Kingsley sister let loose a long sigh as she re-lived the days events in her mind. The garden party had been wonderful, so fresh and green, it was perfect. Well, up until the part where Alice had opted to publicly humiliate Hamish and reject his proposal. Then it had just turned into a hilariously painful situation of epic proportions. She was happy though, and that was all that mattered. Besides, what kind of sister would she be if she placed propriety above her own sibling's happiness?

Eyelashes fluttering gently, finally she succumbed to sleep, muscles relaxing as she drifted off to a land where everything made so much more sense. The smell of flowers hit her nostrils as she raced through a fresh spring meadow, bare feet taking great care to enjoy the tickling sensation beneath them. It was effectively the epitome of freedom, and she was loving every minute of it. Amongst the tiny smattering of flowers however, the brunette caught sigh of a flicker of movement.

It had only been slight, but she noticed it all the same. Her gaze narrowed, and her running stopped, eyes trying to focus in time to see…a small white rabbit? That would've at least been feasible, but this rabbit was decked out in the finest brocades she'd seen in a long time, and was waving a pocket watch absent mindedly in the air. Margaret simply stared for a moment, a combination of lunacy and curiosity taking over as she followed the unique creature. It must've been the stress of the day, it was making her dream a little unorthodox, that was all.

Feet carrying her quickly forwards, she continued to follow, almost until she reached the edge of the meadow. The rabbit stopped at the base of a large oak tree, before jumping down an oversized rabbit hole, that she could only assume was home. Leaning forwards, the pale skinned woman bit her lip lightly, holding on to the visible tree roots for support as she stared down into the darkness below. She had no intention of following the creature into that degree of dirt, but apparently fate had other plans.

The tree root gave way, and the ground itself buckled beneath her weight, causing the young woman to plummet into the land below. She was falling through a mixture of plant-life, of colour and madness both combined. Her eyes clamped shut, bracing herself for the inevitable impact with hard ground. Finally her back collided with a familiar surface, and timidly she opened her eyes, unprepared for the visual display before her.

She was back in her room, the candle at her bedside flickering softly as she felt her heart hammer away inside her chest. Clearly Alice wasn't the only crazy person in the family.


	2. Not as before

She hadn't slept since. Not one wink for the rest of the night. Her mind had been in overdrive, trying to piece together what exactly she had been dreaming about, and why it had taken this long for the insanity to finally kick in. It had to be the stress, it couldn't possibly be anything else, could it? Looking a little worse for wear, the usually immaculate woman sat silently at the breakfast table, spoon poking gently at the porridge before her. She distinctly remembered the rabbit, in his rather dashing little waistcoat, waving around a pocket watch that looked distinctly familiar. That alone, had to scream oodles about her psyche to date. Although, Margaret herself liked to think she was a fairly well rounded individual when it came to mental health.

Forgoing the need for food, the dark haired woman wrinkled her nose as she stood and smoothed her dress down, fingers resting gently on the fabric over her corset for a moment before she excused herself. She needed to get outside, to clear her head of all this nonsense and get back to planning her own wedding. If she didn't start sleeping properly, she was certain she'd look positively ghastly, and what was going to stop her dear beau from chasing skirts then? She already knew what he'd been getting up to, it was just easier to ignore it, when she had the knowledge that she was prettier than all of his flings combined.

Hand reaching upwards to poke gently at her pinned curls, Margaret grabbed her shawl before disappearing out of the door and down the long granite path. Her boots weren't made for walking, they were made for sitting at home and keeping her feet warm while she embroidered various samplers. She knew that after only a few yards, the rounded toes pinching slightly every time she stepped over the uneven ground. She didn't care though, the pain only served to steel her resolve and distract her from impending insanity.

Lilac skirts hitched up slightly, the satisfactorily tall woman sighed as she continued on her way, the beaten track leading her towards the forest where Alice had found sanctuary some days prior. Maybe it would give her a place to think too; somewhere to find the strength to speak up and not remain silent, to make sure she got what she deserved in life without being trampled by the constraints of society. Then again, maybe she'd just end up muddy, cut and feeling even worse. It was a gamble, but one she had decided was worth the risk.

Shrouded by the overhanging branches, the forest was much darker than she had dared hope, but the subtle slices of sunlight puncturing the leafy roof made it much more of a fairytale than a gothic horror. She could hear the birds tweeting away, and the subtle rustle of twigs and fallen leaves as various animals made their way past her. Thankfully, she had yet to see a finely dressed rabbit running around, so perhaps this was a good place to come afterall.

Finding sanctuary beneath a wizened Elm tree, the conflicted individual sat herself down at it's base, back resting gently against it's sturdy frame as she focused on clearing her mind. The sounds of the forest slowly faded to nothing but white noise, the only constant being the steady beat of her heart in her chest. The repetitive thudding slowly changed to a hypnotic rhythm, until it resembled a subtle ticking, almost as if someone had thrust a working clock into her ribs themselves.

The noise was calming though, a welcome change to the worry that had plagued her in the past. It was familiar, it was painless, and it was giving her a much better perspective. Ignoring the world around her, Margaret succumbed to sleep once more, her full weight now resting against the tree as she dreamed of sunshine and hope. She wouldn't have noticed the flicker of gold in the bush opposite, or the pair of prismatic eyes gazing at her with mild frustration, she wouldn't even notice the fact that the ground she now lay on was slowly crumbling, and sending her falling in a much more real manner than her dreams could ever have anticipated.

She might however, notice when she landed.

* * *

It was a long fall to the world below, so it was safe to say, for the few brief minutes before she was to be awoken, that some degree of bliss could be had. She deserved it, for the most part, although she also deserved the sharp and painful reality of the impact. You couldn't have the good, without the bad. The searing pain through her back, drew her from the trance, a sharp cry of pain escaping her lips as she landed in a heap on the floor. She was still in a forest, although this one was darker than the world above. Remaining motionless on the floor for a moment, the brunette grimaced before sitting herself up, dirt trailing itself over her pristine skirt as she checked for any injuries.

For the most part, she was unharmed. The odd cut was now bleeding, but that tended to happen when you collided with rocks, branches and various other sharp objects. Hand reaching for her head, the woman groaned, eyes finally coming to focus, just in time to see the hooves of a horse come dangerously close to trampling her. Margaret shrieked, arms drawing themselves instinctively over her person in a defensive manner as the animal reared upwards before stepping backwards.

_"If you lay in the middle of a road, you're likely to get trampled."_ The voice of the rider reached her ears as she shifted her weight sideways, brown eyes focusing on the face of the dismounting individual as he approached. His hair was a matted mess, tucked gently behind one ear to expose an elaborate scar over one eye. He was looking at her with mild frustration, which she could only assume was either from her being in his way, or from the blood stained manacle hanging from his wrist. Neither of which were bound to be all that pleasant.

"_Oh."_ She responded, never once shifting her gaze from the curious individual now before her. She didn't move either, which wasn't likely to go down too well, she was too busy trying to grasp what exactly was happening. Before either could react future, another figure arrived on the scene, the rabbit. He was shouting orders at the knave without so much as a second thought. _"You're not supposed to be here! If you're here; where's she?"_

Things were about to get awfully complicated.


	3. Familiar perspective

He couldn't believe he'd actually done it. Somewhere between being exiled, and trying to kill Iracebeth, the Knave had lost his way. Once upon a time, he'd worshiped the ground the queen had walked on, yet now, he couldn't even bear to look at her. It was partly why he'd gone and done what he did; it was a combination of years of repression, and just a hint of kindness. He hadn't killed her, he'd simply broken her wrist in order to get the damn manacle off. She wasn't impressed, he'd grasped that, but it meant he was free to be his own person again.

The lump of metal was still hanging from his wrist even now (he hadn't quite gotten around to removing his own limb from it's clutches) the splatters of the Red Queen's blood adorning both his own raw wrist, and the chains themselves. He hadn't looked back. The minute it was off, he'd grabbed the nearest horse and rode into the sunset, never looking back at the woman he once thought he loved. Coming back into the White Queen's domain was both foolish and uncalled for, but to the Knave, it was the only place he could call home. He'd find redemption one way or another, even if he had to bleed to do so.

Lips pursed in silent contemplation, he rode on, chestnut steed carrying him through both unfamiliar and homely terrain. It was only on the verge of the forest that he'd encountered any problem, and that was only because a woman had been stupid enough to lay in the middle of the road. Horse rearing, he pulled tightly on the reins to gain control, before sliding nonchalantly from the animal. Scuffed boots shuffled across the track as he waited impatiently for some degree of an explanation. It was a welcome break from all the riding, he supposed.

It was only when she looked at him, that he felt a pang of familiarity in his stomach. She looked an awful lot like Um, Alice, **her. **Perhaps he didn't need to give her a name, the look she'd given him in the castle hallways would surely suffice for years to come. Eyebrow raising, the scarred individual remained silent as she uttered her confused response, he even kept his mouth shut as the white rabbit came bouncing at him, until of course there was mention of dear Iracebeth.

_"As you can see, we're no longer together." _He raised the chain as proof, the hint of a smile almost painting themselves across his face as he waited. Cape pulled around his person, the dark haired man furrowed his brow._ " And do please tell me this isn't another Alice." _He wouldn't have minded either way, but it did make things easier when people weren't predestined to hate him, especially not when they were so…enjoyable to look at. Head inclining in a nod, the Knave bent forwards in the most chivalrous manner he could muster, before extending a hand to help the fallen woman up, all the while infuriating the rabbit with every breath he took.

"_Ilosovic Stayn." _He introduced himself, never once letting his gaze falter, partly because he was so interested, and partly because he knew if he kept it up he might just give the rabbit a heart attack. Still, if today was anything to go by, perhaps it was worth returning afterall.


	4. A path with no answers

Nivens McTwisp was unimpressed. For starters, this wasn't Alice. The Hatter hadn't been overly specific about who was supposed to be the outside help this time around, and although the dirt covered woman wasn't the blonde he had come to trust, he supposed that he could see past that as they were of the same bloodline. What he couldn't see past, however, was the fact that Stayne was now standing in front of him, minus the former queen. If that alone didn't shock the poor rabbit, the glances he was giving the new arrival certainly did.

_"That's beside the point."_ Replied the white furred creature with an exasperated sigh. _"You're not supposed to be here any more than she is. Exile, is exile for a reason." _Hands positioning themselves on his hips, the dapperly dressed critter swore under his breath as the traitor suddenly decided to grow a chivalrous backbone. Thankfully, Margaret seemed somewhat unphased by the action, and he could, with any luck, palm it off as an insignificant action later on. Gaze flicking to his watch, the irritated male swore once again before tapping his foot impatiently against the ground. _"Besides, we need to be going. We're running late as it is."_

Conveniently choosing not to address the Alice question, the white rabbit started moving once again, furry paw tugging at the skirts of the new arrivals dress to indicate she should finally do something to help herself. It seemed she was more interested in receiving help from the slimy knave, but he'd remedy that soon enough once he explained the history of the land to date. Half dragging the woman along, finally she relented and followed silently, although with a wave and a smile to Stayne who had thankfully chosen to stay put and not follow them.

He'd mention it to the Hatter when he got chance, perhaps he could appeal to her sense of reason (Ha!), or at least give her some perspective in terms of rationality. Biting her tongue, the dark haired woman ambled along behind the rabbit, mouth opening at various intervals to almost question the action, before correcting herself and abiding by whatever common sense she still possessed. By this point, she was fairly adamant it was some sort of psychotic break, and as such wasn't even fighting the urge to make sense of the situation anymore.

_"He mentioned Alice. She's been here before, hasn't she?" _Why that was relevant in her psychiatric breakdown, she wasn't entirely sure, but if her psyche wanted to involve her sister, who was she to argue? She was having conversations with a rabbit for god's sake!

_"Yes. She has. We were quite fond of Alice too, you though…you're more of a Anti-Alice. You're North, she's South. I'm not sure if this is going to work you know." _Replied Nivens as he looked to his watch once more. In the clearing ahead she could see a castle of polished white, and instead chose to focus on that, rather than enquire as to what she may, or may not be suitable for. It was a lot easier not knowing, she was less likely to throw up that way.

One thing was certain though, she could really do with a stiff drink.


	5. As a matter of hat

Ever since the Jabberwocky incident, things had changed for the better. The lack of tyranny was marvellous! So was the ability to walk around in broad daylight, and speak your mind without fearing a beheading. But for the Hatter, something was missing. Something beginning with the letter A. At first, he'd hoped it was alcohol. That a soothing glass of something warm and corrosive might just take his mind off things, but the more he dwelled on it, the more he knew he was missing Alice.

So it was safe to say he was none too impressed, when Nivens turned up, with a girl that was quite clearly not _his _Alice. She looked similar, he'd give him that much, but she lacked the twinkle in her eye that was so vivid in the blonde girl he so dearly wanted to see again. Maybe this was a joke. Maybe somewhere underneath all those petticoats, was the real Alice waiting to jump out and surprise him. Cane in hand, he timidly used it to push Margaret's skirts upwards to test this theory, but was promptly met with several indignant glares, and a distinct lack of personage beneath said layers of fabric.

_"It's not Alice!"_ He exclaimed, a pained look on his face as he pointed the accusatory finger in the direction of the rabbit. He'd asked for help, because regardless of what anyone else said, rumours had been circulating about Iracebeth and he wasn't in a hurry to quash them so easily. Besides, he was sure he and the former saviour of Wonderland had been quite the team. She smiled, and she joked, and she had a fine appreciation of hats. This woman however, looked tired, slightly bemused, and positively miserable. It was no good, they'd have to take her back and get Alice.

_"Tell me; what do you think of my hat?"_ He asked curiously, trying to determine if this situation was at all salvageable. Even if she did happen to have good taste, it still didn't change the fact she wasn't the one the prophecies had foretold of. She was useless with a capital U, and that meant they had a rather sticky situation at hand.

Margaret simply blinked, the mention of her sister once more causing her to pay more attention. _"Alice is my sister." _She decided to add, unsure of whether or not it added, or retracted weight from the argument. Then of course, came the question about the hat. It wasn't bad, it was just a little unorthodox for her tastes._ " And your hat is very…avant-garde_." It was the politest thing she could come up with, without resorting to flat out lies, but it was said with sincerity, so she hoped it would suffice.

The Hatter nodded, before shifting to pace around her like a wolf circling it's prey. He could see it, now that she mentioned it, they had the same features, although Alice had much deeper eyes that were more thoughtful. This woman just looked empty. _"She's taller, and much more frilly than our Alice…"_ he concluded, nose wrinkling at the frou-frou nature of all those petticoats. _"but she'll do temporarily. Until we can get someone better. "_

With any luck, if he waited long enough, Alice might just turn up to find out where her sister had disappeared to, and they could all sit down for afternoon tea and revel in the glory of his hats! Oh, and possibly save Underland again too, but mainly the former. He just wanted to have his friend back.


	6. Masked motivation

The Knave didn't quite know what had just happened. One minute he was riding along, minding his own business, the next he was nearly trampling an attractive woman to death. That much, he could ascertain. But the fact the rabbit had been so quick to remove said lady from his company was the worst part. He'd done his fair share of misdeeds over the years, certainly, but did that really mean he wasn't allowed to speak to a brunette that was otherwise the spitting image of Um?

_Oh Um. _ In truth he actually thought he preferred the new arrival to the blonde goddess he'd met previously. She looked quite nice, even amidst the cuts, bruises and copious amounts of mud. The mystery woman had been easy on the eyes, perhaps a little too much so for him, but she was still sufficiently dysfunctional to be a viable outlet for his attention. Well, that was his story anyway. Hand reaching upwards to rake through the ebony strands threatening to hinder his view, the Knave paced on the spot. He didn't even know her name, she was simply the Not-Um to him.

In some ways, it was probably a good thing she'd gone with the rabbit. At least now he was left alone with his wandering mind, and could do what he liked without the constraints of making an idiot of himself. It was a welcome change just to have a daydream about someone that wasn't going to behead him if he even so much as looked at another woman. Shaking his head, Stayn paused before mounting his horse once more and turning to ride back the way he came.

He was playing it all out in his mind, the things he'd say, the things he'd do. It was an unusual sort of scenario, granted, but it was one that was making his day significantly more tolerable. He wasn't going to be a knight in shining armour anytime soon, but make a point of being around if he was needed (in a slightly stalkerish, but highly endearing way.)

For now, he was simply left alone with his thoughts, which, considering the nature of some of them, was probably a very good thing.

* * *

Iracebeth was on the move. It might have had something to do with the fact her alleged friend/lover/significant-other had opted to break her wrist for his own sense of sanity, but it was more due to finding life as an exile downright depressing. She was holding a grudge in regards to her sister, but most importantly towards Alice. That snot-nosed outsider had killed her Jabberwocky, and ruined everything she was entitled to in life. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't going to be forgotten anytime soon.

Venom coursing through her veins, and a plan slowly coming to fruition, the auburn haired woman led the march home, a growing army of followers trudging behind her at a slow and steady pace. Everyone that had wronged her would soon pay.

This queen, would not forgive and forget.


	7. A stitch in time

Margaret felt sick. The multitude of new and deranged faces was too much for her to handle. She wasn't supposed to be here, she was supposed to be back home, tending to Lowell and focusing on reality. This display of lunacy was just so unorthodox it bordered on painful. The brunette brought her hand to her mouth, suppressing the urge to wretch as the Underland inhabitants looked on with their own measure of confusion. Her gaze had drifted downwards to her boots as she became increasingly more interested in the solitary patch of grass at her feet. She was nothing like her sister, and they all knew it.

_"Um…Not-Alice…"_ Started the Hatter gently, offering a cup of chamomile tea to her in the process. _"I don't suppose you have a name that's less confusing. We can call you Not-Alice if you'd prefer, but it might get a little awkward when Alice does turn up again."_ He let loose a small chuckle. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he could feel it in his bones. Alice would return - one way or another, and then they'd have a delightful time saving the universe once more with copious amounts of caffeine! Tarrant smiled broadly, that thought was the only thing getting him through the day.

_"Margaret."_ Responded the nauseous woman, immediately taking a sip of the offered beverage to calm her nerves. It probably could've done with a hint of Irish charm adding, but it was warm, familiar, and less likely to exercise her upchuck reflex.

_"Wonderful!"_ Exclaimed the hat maker, hands colliding in fast succession to offer some degree of applause. He always liked things that started with the letter M, it gave him closure, it certainly wasn't on par with the letter A, but it did serve it's purpose and gloss over his doubts. Tilting his head to one side, the neon haired individual gave the dirt coated woman a scrutinising glance once more.

_"You can't take her to see the queen like** that**!" _Concluded the Rabbit as he finally broke his silence. He'd practically read his mind. It was a well known fact that Mirana liked things to be somewhat clean. Nivens felt it actually bordered on OCD, but he supposed anyone visiting a royal would generally display some degree of neatness in the long run. Short of covering Margaret in several layers of white paint though, he doubted very much that he'd be able to clean up the mess. Hatter however, was an entirely different matter.

Tarrant Hightopp was practically a miracle worker. It had taken years of practice, and all of the creative genius he could muster, but it was how he could create something from nothing in under 60 seconds. Case in point: Alice's dresses from her last jaunt into the unknown. He had to admit, since this wasn't the blonde herself, he wasn't putting in nearly as much effort (even Hatters are subject to favouritism you know). Tongue sticking out lightly as he began cutting out a dress from the table cloth, Margaret watched with interest as she calmed her nerves with another soothing sip of chamomile.

How Alice coped with this, she'd never know.


	8. History repeats

Lowell was going to kill her.

He'd concluded **that** the moment he'd woken up to find his fiancee conveniently absent. He'd searched the house and the gardens, only to come back empty only explanation he could come up with, was that Alice had told her sister of his previous infidelities. Perhaps he wouldn't go so far as to actually _kill _her, but if this all went to hell and they didn't get married, he was adamant he was going to teach the blonde to keep her big mouth shut in future.

He was far from the innocent party in all of this, especially since it was his amorous advances in the middle of a hedge maze that had caught him out, but as far as he was concerned it was just the youngest Kingsley out to get him. Pulling on a pair of slate grey breeches, the dark haired man muttered under his breath as he followed them with boots. White shirt tucked haphazardly into the entire ensemble, he headed for the door, whilst making a point of grabbing the corresponding tailcoat in the process.

Margaret had to be around somewhere. Even if she'd run off into the surrounding woods, he'd soon catch up with her. She was hardly famed for wearing practical footwear, it was likely to be a small miracle if she hadn't managed to break her ankle in all of the furore. Hand raking through his disheveled mop of hair, Lowell continued up the hill, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any signs of his runaway lover. It wasn't until he'd gone a few hundred meters into the offending wood, that he had any semblance of her existence.

A stray ribbon was caught on a tree just above a significantly large rabbit hole. Grabbing hold of a branch, the society dandy leant over the gaping hole, peering down into the darkness below. She couldn't possibly have fallen down there, could she? _"No…. She can't have."_ He said to himself in disbelief, eyebrow raising as he caught sight of a flicker of movement several feet below. Was that…a butterfly? It couldn't be. It was underground, nothing was likely to be down there except the odd furry animal and insects.

Readjusting his footing, Lowell leant a little further forwards, full weight now being held by a rapidly buckling branch. He could feel it giving way, but was too engrossed in is own stubborn curiosity to do anything about it. It was why he didn't have time to react when it finally snapped. The branch flicked backwards, smacking him in the face before sending him tumbling through the hole below. He could taste the faintest hint of blood in his mouth as he too, fell into Underland.

Landing on his backside with a thud, the man in his twenties cursed loudly before spitting a mouthful of crimson onto the floor. He was blaming Alice for this one too, his split lip was entirely her fault. Shaking his head, Lowell was just about to stand when he felt something sharp against the skin at his throat, his chest, his back….everywhere really. Looking upwards, the lothario swallowed hard as he was met with the faces of several dozen misfits decked out in red, each pointing a spear at various locations on his person.

_"Another one?!"_ Came a disbelieving shout from behind the immediate thread, it's source being a bulbous headed woman, who looked significantly dangerous. _"We're going to have to start boarding those holes up before Uplanders start raining from the sky. I am not having a repeat of last time."_


End file.
